


Over Coffee

by Fantom_of_the_Fiction



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantom_of_the_Fiction/pseuds/Fantom_of_the_Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*CURRENTLY ON HIATUS*</p><p>Beverly Katz works at Bella's, the local café, with Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller.</p><p>Her morning wasn't going well, but then Alana Bloom walked in. And Beverly's heart stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to emmaz0n and pizzazia for giving me prompts for this story!

Beverly yawned and tried to rub the sleepiness from her face as she opened the door to Bella’s, the café she worked at with Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price. Thankfully she had gotten there before the store opened.

“Morning.” She called out to whoever was there.

Jimmy popped his head out from behind a coffee machine. “Gooood morning, Bev! Sleep well?” he asked, cheerful as always.

She grunted in response.

“Well, look what the Katz dragged in. Want me to make you a pick-me-up?” Brian offered as he stepped out from the back kitchen.

“Ugh, I’d love one. Give me an extra shot of espresso. Anything to wake me up.”

“One Black Eye coming right up.” Brian disappeared into the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”

“A Black Eye is dripped coffee with a double shot of espresso. It has a strong taste. There’s also the Red Eye, which is the least strong with only one shot of espresso, also known as a ‘Shot in the Dark’. And then there’s the Green Eye. A Green Eye, also known as ‘Triple Death’, is drip brewed dark-roast coffee with a triple shot of espresso.  That one is for people who have already hit rock bottom and dug themselves six feet under.” Jimmy informed her, being detailed as ever. That’s why he was the one who made the drinks most of the time. He knew every ingredient and exactly how much of it went into each drink.

“Green Eye is basically like taking Ecstasy. Makes you real hyper and it suppresses your basic physical needs, like eating, drinking, and sleeping.” Brian returned from the kitchen with one of their three white ‘special’ mugs and began brewing the coffee.

“Which is why rave parties that have ecstasy present can exceed twenty-four or even forty-eight hours in duration.” Jimmy added.

“Is that legal?” Beverly asked as she walked past him and into the break room to put her personal items away and grab her apron.

Brian shrugged. “Crawford worked for the FBI, so I doubt that he’d put something illegal on the menu.” He called out to her.

“It’s a shame that he retired. He talks about his past in the FBI with such enthusiasm and vigor.” Jimmy told them as she returned, tying her apron around her back.

Brian leaned against the counter, “What else could he do? His wife had _lung cancer_. The FBI became too much for him, he was surrounded by too much death. So he retired and opened up a coffee shop and named it after his wife.”

“Yeah, why did he do that? I feel like I know the story, but I can’t remember it.” Beverly said as she pulled her long black hair up into a bun. She rested her elbows on the counter and put her head in her hands.

“You’ve worked here for almost a year and a half now and you still can’t get the story to stick in your head?” Brian tsked.

“Hey, it’s not like I sit around and think about my boss’s wife in my free time.”

“Really, you don’t? Because we do. We discuss Jack’s mother and father and aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews on a daily basis. We set aside a time every evening. Usually over dinner. Right, Brian?”

“Right, Jimmy. You should join us sometime, Bev. It’s very formal. We even have finger food.”

“Made of real fingers!”

“Oh, cannibalism, my favorite topic.” Beverly rolled her eyes.

Brian laughed. “But yeah, the story. Jack’s wife had always wanted to own a coffee shop. It was her dream. She designed the layout, picked out the color palette, made the menu. But she got too caught up with her job that she didn’t have time, so she decided to open it up once she retired. And then she got sick. And then she died, and Jack left the FBI to fulfill her dream.”

“Such a shame. She sounded like a wonderful woman.”

“It’s too early in the morning for depressing stories. Just give me the coffee already, Zee.” She held out her hand and beckoned for the cup.

Brian put two shots of espresso in the mug, filled it with the coffee, and handed it to her. “It’s real strong, you might want to put sugar or crea- oh, okay, or just drink it how it is. That’s cool, too.” Beverly could be frightening at times, especially when she was tired. Now, for instance, she was drinking scalding hot, very strong coffee without so much as a blink of her eye.

Brian and Jimmy shared a look.

“Shut up, I’m tired.” She said with little to no emotion.

“Well, Miss Monster, I’m sorry to say this, but we have work to do. We open at six, and it is now,” he checked his watch, “exactly six o’clock. So either relocate or crawl back under the bed where you obviously belong.”

With a glare at Jimmy and an exhausted sigh, Beverly reluctantly shuffled over about ten feet, hidden from view by the display case that was filled with pastries she had made the night before. Brian went to the front door and flipped the sign which read ‘Open, come on in’ in fancy cursive that the three of them had made one night and Jimmy turned on the usual instrumental music that they had been adding songs to for the past few months.

Mornings were very busy at Bella’s. But then again, so were afternoons and evenings. They were located right in the center of town by all the big businesses and offices and an elementary and high school, and a college was a few blocks away. It was a great location, and they figured that Jack put the shop there so he wouldn’t have to worry about money and he would be able to keep it going with no risk of it closing, thus crushing his wife’s dream. And that wasn’t an option.

Businesswomen and men slowly began to trickle in first, as usual. The college students and professors would come next, then the high school teachers, then the high schoolers, then the parents of elementary school kids, and then the people who didn’t have to get up ridiculously early.

Brian manned the cash register like usual and took the orders of the suit-clad workers, most of whom looked just as bad as Beverly did, but they at least tried to make themselves look good. Jimmy puttered about behind them, making each drink himself quickly and efficiently.

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter. The usual?” Brian asked to one of their usual customers, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who was one of Jack’s old co-workers. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and cheekbones that could easily cut through stone. Or at least, that’s how Brian described them.

“Yes, please. But I think I’ll have a Bear Claw today instead of a Chocolate Croissant.” Came his melodic voice.

“Switching it up a bit today, huh?” he registered Dr. Lecter’s order into the register.

“I’m feeling adventurous.” He smiled.

“Coming right up.” Brian turned to Beverly. “Bev, would you get Dr. Lecter a Bear Claw?”

Beverly nodded slowly; the espresso hadn’t kicked in yet. She opened a new box of parchment paper, pulled out a sheet, opened up the display case, and took out a Bear Claw. She put it in a bag and handed it to Brian and immediately resumed hiding behind the coffee maker, sipping at her coffee.

“Rough morning, Beverly?” Hannibal asked her, peering over the counter and somehow managing to see her.

“It’s a Monday, of course it’s rough, Dr. Lecter.” She forced a smile.

He laughed, “I understand completely. But your pastries always seem to make my morning better.”

That made Beverly smile a genuine smile. “Thank you, I appreciate that.” She gave him a thumbs up, which she immediately regarded as a very embarrassing decision.

“Your total is six dollars and forty-three cents.” Brian told Dr. Lecter. He did have other customers to serve, after all.

He handed Brian his card and Brian swiped it through and gave him a cheery smile then handed it back. “Thank you, have a great day, Dr. Lecter.”

“Thank you, Brian. You as well. And you, Beverly!” he called to her as he moved down to the end of the counter to wait for his drink.

Beverly smiled and nodded once in thanks, then immediately resumed her position behind the display case.

She watched customers come and go for the next few minutes, her drink finally starting to kick in. She had a good view of the floor-to-ceiling window that made up the front walls of the store, so she watched the roads and sidewalks gradually come to life with cars and joggers and mothers and fathers pushing strollers and people walking their dogs.

Just then, a woman with long dark hair and a royal blue coat stopped in front of the shop, looked up at the sign, and stuffed a small piece of paper into her pocket. She stepped inside shop then and looked around, taking it in as if she were unfamiliar with the territory.

Beverly watched the woman as she stood off to the side, looking over the drink options. There was something about her that made Beverly reluctant to look away. Maybe it was the way her hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face, or how her eyes were a certain shade of blue that reminded Beverly of the smooth, colorful sea glass she used to collect when she was a young girl. Or maybe it was the way that the blue of her coat matched them perfectly, making her eyes stand out even more.

The woman stepped in line after a moment, and Beverly watched her intently.

“Bev, one Marble Loaf please!” Brian called to her.

Without taking her eyes off of the woman, Beverly pulled out another sheet of parchment paper and put a Marble Loaf in a bag and handed it to Brian in one swift movement, having memorized the exact locations of each pastry.

Maybe the woman would ask for a pastry? Beverly wondered what she would ask for. She looked like the kind of person who would order something fancy and fruity.

Two more customers ordered, and at last it was the woman’s turn.

“Good morning. What can I get for you?”

The woman smiled. “I’d like a small Red Tux, please.”

And Beverly’s heart stopped. If she thought Dr. Lecter’s voice was melodic, then the woman’s voice was a symphony.

“One small Red Tux.” He taped her order in. “Would you like anything else with that? We have a wide selection of pastries, all homemade.”

“Homemade? That’s very impressive.” She looked over the pastries in the display case, and Beverly was sure to crouch down so the woman wouldn’t see her. She shot Brian a look to keep him quiet.

“I’ll take an Apple Danish, then.”

Brian added it to her order. “Will that be all?”

“Yep, that’s all.”

“Name?”

“Alana Bloom. Oh, just Alana.”

_Alana Bloom._

_What a perfect name. Alana, Alana, Alana._

Beverly felt like Fanny Brice in the movie Funny Girl when was singing Nick Arnstein’s name the first time she heard it.

Alana wanted and Apple Danish. And Beverly would give her the best damn looking Apple Danish they had.

She couldn’t see the Apple Danishes very well from behind, so she slid the door open and pulled out the tray. She scrutinized each and every one and decided on the second from the front. She used another sheet of parchment paper to pick it up and put it in a bag

“Alrighty. That’ll be four dollars and nineteen cents.”

Alana handed him her card and he swiped it and handed it back to her.

Should she hand Brian the bag or should she do it herself?

She should do it herself. Maybe she could say hi while she was at it.

Beverly stepped forward and froze.

_Holy shit._

The sunlight was reflecting off of the windows of the shop across the street and into the shop, silhouetting Alana in golden light. She looked like an angel with a bright, vibrant halo.

“H-here.” She stammered, holding out the bag, which she was gripping tightly enough that he knuckles were turning white. But she didn’t notice, of course.

“Oh, thank – thank you.” Alana smiled and laughed quietly.

Beverly’s stomach flipped and her cheeks abruptly turned pink. Alana took the bag from her, and Beverly blinked and turned and walked straight into the break room.

Brian looked at Alana, who looked at him, who looked at Jimmy, who looked back at Brian. The two looked toward the break room, then at each other again, and shrugged.

“Have a good day, ma’am.” Brian smiled, turning his attention back to Alana.

“Thank you very much.” She smiled and walked to the end of the counter to wait for her drink.

________________

My friends emmaz0n and pizzazia - who are amazing artists - have made some fanart for this chapter, which you can see below!

This one is done by [emmaz0n](http://emmaz0n.tumblr.com):

And this one is done by [pizzazia](http://pizzazia.tumblr.com):


	2. Chapter 2

Beverly had successfully avoided the topic of what happened the day before after she returned from the break room, but the next morning wasn’t so lucky.

“What in the _hell_ was _that_?” Brian asked her as she walked into the store.

“What was what?” _Shit._

“You know what I’m talking about.” He stated as he followed her into the break room, where she again put her belongings and grabbed her apron.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She said, avoiding the topic as much as humanely possible. She walked into the kitchen to wash her hands and get started on making new pastries for the day.

“I believe he’s referring to the event that occurred yesterday in which you shoved a pastry bag in a customer’s face and immediately retreated to the break room for half an hour.” Jimmy suggested, walking into the kitchen. “And, although _this_ didn’t happen yesterday, we’re both concerned with the fact that you just put caramel on your hands instead of soap.”

Beverly looked down at her hands and realized that she had, in fact, mistaken the caramel dispenser for the soap dispenser and was currently rubbing caramel all over her hands.

The three of them stared at her hands. She had no response. So she walked over about ten feet to the sink, where she _thought_ she had been, and washed off her hands.

She pulled out the various ingredients and supplies she need for making the pastries from the various places they lived in the kitchen and began mixing them together. Maybe Alana would come in again today. If she did, the pastries would need to be perfect.

“Bev, really. Talk to us.” Brian said, his tone friendly and concerned.

“There’s nothing wrong, Zee. I need to get these pastries made before we open. I decided not to make them last night, so I’m making them this morning.”

“Bev, you shoved a pastry bag in a customer’s face. You’ve been acting weird ever since then. Come on, _talk to us_.”

“I had an off day yesterday. That’s all.” She shrugged.

Brian pursed his lips, not buying that excuse in the slightest. “Mmhm.”

“Can you just let me get these pastries done in peace, please?”

“Ooh, touchy, touchy.” Jimmy raised his eyebrows and Beverly stuck her tongue out at him.

They let her be, deciding that they would pester her more about it later.

Beverly cracked the eggs and sifted the flower and the sugar and poured cups upon cups of water into countless bowls. She stirred and stirred until her arms were sore. She was trying to keep her mind off of Alana, but she was having a hard time of it. The image of Alana’s frame outlined with a pool of sunlight made her head spin and the sound of her voice made her stomach flip and the memory of her smile and her laugh made her heart skip a beat each time she thought of it. She forced the thoughts of the blue eyed beauty out of her head for the time being, needing to focus on her work.

An hour and a half later, Brian came back in to check on Beverly and the pastries. She was icing the éclairs, first with a layer of chocolate icing, then swirls of vanilla icing on top.

Brian looked over the pastries, taking in deep breaths so he could take in as much of the delicious scent as he could.

Beverly was the one who suggested that they sell pastries. She had said that she had experience in baking and that she was pretty good at it and liked to do it. So she made some pastries for Jack, Brian, and Jimmy and all immediately decided that Beverly would be the pastry chef after only one bite of her baking.

“Smells great, Bev. How’d you learn to do that with the icing? So precisely, I mean.” He asked, leaning against the counter.

“Remember my cousin Cristina?”

“The surgeon over at Seattle Grace, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Her friend Izzie taught her how to ice, and Cristina then taught me. Izzie’s also a surgeon and she bakes when she’s stressed. I don’t know how she managed to get Cristina to bake something with her; she’s a huge workaholic and never has time for anything else. There!” she put the icing pack down on the counter. “All done.”

“Want me to help you carry them out?” he offered.

“Sure. I’ll take these. You can get the ones on the island.”

The two carried the trays of warm pastries out and set them on top of the display case.

“Hey, Bev?” Brian had a look of confusion on his face.

“What is it?” she asked, retrieving the clean platters and strategically placing the pastries on them.

“Why do the éclairs have ‘Alana’ written on them in icing?”

Beverly stopped where she was and looked over at the éclairs. _Shit._

She looked over at the éclairs and saw that they did, in fact, sport a blatantly obvious ‘Alana’ iced onto them in elaborate cursive.

“Those don’t say Alana.”

“Uh, yeah, they do. Jimmy, come over here and tell me that these éclairs don’t have ‘Alana’ written all over them.” He beckoned the other man over, who also looked over the pastries.

“They don’t say ‘Alana’.” He said matter-of-factly.

“See?” Beverly raised her eyebrows at Brian and taking an inward sigh of relief.

“This one here says Bloom. And this one over here also says Bloom. And so do these three.”

“See?” Brian mimicked, raising his eyebrows at Beverly.

“They do not! Look.” She turned one upside-down. “See? It’s just icing.”

Brian and Jimmy shared a look, then looked back at her.

“All right _fine,_ I’ll fix them.” Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. She took the tray back into the kitchen and covered them with zigzags of dark chocolate and vanilla icing.

Thankfully for Beverly, Brian and Jimmy didn’t remember that they had a customer the previous day with the name Alana Bloom, so she was safe. For now.

Jimmy had just flipped the sign and opened the doors to the public. It was a nice day out, so Jimmy and Brian had set some tables and chairs outside while Beverly was baking. Customers had already begun entering the shop when Beverly returned from the kitchen and put the éclairs into the display case. Brian had put the other pastries on their platters and into the display case, but naturally, he hadn’t placed the pastries correctly. She sighed and took the platters out and reorganized them.

She was really just passing the time, waiting for Alana to show up. She had made the Apple Danishes extra special today, with more sugar and crisper apples. Plus, these weren’t made the night before. From here on out, Beverly swore that she would get to the café every morning at 4:45 and bake the pastries fresh. She would need to get a set of keys from Jack. Or maybe Jimmy would give her his.

She kept a look out for Alana as the businesswomen and men filed into the shop.

“Your shop smells simply delicious this morning.” one customer said as he stepped up to the register. He was a plump man with dark, curly hair and a scruffy beard.

“Thank you very much, sir. All of our pastries are home made by our very own Beverly Katz.” Brian motioned to Beverly, who stood proud by her pastries.

“They smell wonderful. I can’t wait to try one.” He smiled at Beverly, who smiled back.

“Thank you very much. They’re fresh out of the oven, so they’re still hot.”

“Oh, just how I like them.” He turned back to Brian. “I’d like a Café Miel and a Cheese Danish, please.” He looked over at Beverly. “Cheese is my passion.”

“Maybe we’ll add more cheese based pastries to our menu, then.” She said, putting a Cheese Danish into a red pastry bag. They had gotten in the first shipment of their custom pastry bags; they were a chocolate brown with a thick stripe of red in the middle with “Bella’s” written in the center in white cursive.

“Name?” Brian asked, Jimmy puttering around behind him, making Franklyn’s drink.

“Franklyn.”

“That’ll be six dollars and fifty cents.”

Franklyn handed Brian the exact amount of change – he must have calculated it while he was in line – and Beverly handed him the pastry.

“Thank you very much, sir. Have a wonderful day.” Brian flashed him a smile and turned his attention to the next customer.

The store was especially crowded today, so Beverly had to crane her neck to look for Alana. But then she walked into the store, and Beverly spun into action.

“Zee, let me take over the register.” She told Brian.

“What? Why?”

“I never do it. Let’s switch. Come on, move.” She grabbed his shoulders and all but pushed him out of the way.

“Jeez, Bev, could’ve just asked politely.” He said with a sarcastic sneer.

She wrinkled her nose at him and turned to a customer with curly red hair that looked like it could set off a wild bull.

“Good morning. What would you like?”

There was something about this woman that Beverly didn’t like. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she could sense it in how the woman held herself and looked down her nose at her.

“I’d like a grande Café Mocha, no sugar, extra whipped cream, extra dry, with half skim, half full milk. I don't want two percent milk, just a mixture of the both. And strawberry syrup, mix with the milk, then the coffee.”

Ah, there it was.

“Would you like anything else with that?”

“No, only the coffee.” She handed Beverly her credit card.

“Name?”

“Lounds.”

“That’ll be four dollars and twenty cents.” She told her as she swiped her card. She handed it back and wished the woman a good day.

Only three more customers until Alana.

And then there she was.

“Hi.” Alana smiled.

Beverly stared back with a dreamy look on her face.  “Hello.” She sighed.

Alana stared back at her, feeling slightly awkward. “I’d, um–”

Beverly snapped back into reality when Brian nudged her in the side.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. What can I get for you?” she was positive that her face was beet red.

Alana laughed and Beverly’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d like a small Red Tux, please. And an éclair.”

Beverly’s breath hitched in her throat. Oh, no. Would Alana notice that her name was written in icing all over the éclairs? She hoped to God not.

Beverly tapped in Alana’s order. “And will that be all?”

“Nope, that’s it for today.”

“Name?”

“Alana.”

Brian looked quizzically between the two women, and something clicked. A mischievous smile found its way onto his face.

“Oh, Alana, is it?” he piped up. “You know, I heard that name recently. It’s not as common as you might think.”

Beverly glared at him, but he kept going.

“Where did we see it, Bev? Surely you know. Oh, Jimmy!” he tapped him on the shoulder. “Where did we hear the name Alana?”

“That name sounds oddly familiar. I believe we heard it this morning before we opened up shop, but I can’t recall the context.”

Beverly forced a laugh. “Please ignore them, they don’t know what they’re talking about. Your total is four dollars and nineteen cents.”

Alana laughed again and handed Beverly her card. Beverly’s fingers brushed against Alana’s, and she reveled in it.

Brian handed Beverly the pastry bag with the éclair and she handed it to Alana.

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“You’re welcome.” Beverly said dreamily, her normal persona forgotten at the moment.

Alana moved down to the end of the counter and Beverly’s gaze followed her, watching how her hair bounced as she took each step and how delicately she pushed a stray strand behind her ear. She was wearing a black cardigan over a floral print dress, and _damn_ did it fit her nicely.

“Bev.”

She was standing facing forward, so Beverly had a great view of her profile. The dip at the top of the bridge her nose, the way her red lips stood out from her fair skin.

“Bev?”

How smooth her skin looked, how soft it must feel to run her fingers along it, memorizing every contour of her…

“Bev, for God’s sake, quit gawking. We have customers to serve.” Brian scolded, only half sarcastic.

“Oh, right. I’m done here, take it back.” She took his shoulders and moved him in front of the register and went back to the pastries.

Later that afternoon, after Alana had left and Beverly’s mind became almost completely clear, the usual wave of college students came in, all in great need of a pick-me-up during the last few weeks of school. Some were dressed in sweats, some in pajamas, but most were dressed normally. Only one student ordered an extra strong coffee, and they looked like they were about to fall down dead.

One student who looked especially well put together and rather professional came up to the counter.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?”

“A small Chai Tea Latte, please. And a brownie.”

“One small Chai Tea Latte and a brownie coming right up. Would that be all for today?”

“Oh, no, actually. I wanted to know if you were accepting job applications here?”

“Oh, um. Hold on.” Brian turned around to Jimmy. “Price, are we accepting job applications?”

“Yes, we are. The forms are under the counter.” He would have gone into more detail on the matter, but all of his attention was currently on making a Latte.

Brian turned back to her. “Yes, we are accepting job applications.” He searched under the counter, moving things around and looking for something that resembled a job application form.

When he finally found it, he pulled one out of the middle of the stack and handed it to her.

“There you go.”

She took it gratefully. “Thank you so much. When would you like it back by?”

“Uh. Next Monday, please.”

“Okay, will do. Thank you again.” She handed him her debit card so she could pay for her order.

“Nah, free of charge for a potential coworker.”

“Really? Oh, well thank you.” She blushed happily.

“My pleasure. Oh, could I get your name?” Brian asked her before she stepped away to wait for her drink.

“Margot Verger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and ideas are always appreciated.


End file.
